Others followed him, and soon a second chain was passing buckets of water, William among those tossing water onto the flames.
“I help,” said Clyde as he lifted off.
“No!” yelled William, but Clyde quickly disappeared into the darkness. William worried the dragon might make things worse, being a creature who naturally breathed fire, but Clyde surprised him. The dragon returned, flying slowly over the boat, spraying a billowing mist over the highest flames. The fire subsided slightly, and William urged him to do it again.
The fire fight went on for over an hour. By the end, William’s arms screamed with pain, and he could barely lift them to wipe the soot from his eyes. The frenzied action saved the docks, but both boats sunk before the flames were extinguished.
“That was a near thing,” said Dan as he pressed a damp rag to his face. “If one of those masts fell the wrong way, the fire could have spread even more. The inn, warehouses, other docks…it all could have been lost.”
“We were lucky, that’s for sure,” said Jack.
“Luck has nothing to do with it,” said Rachel. “Two boats catching fire separately, one after the other? This was done deliberately. Whoever did it wasn’t looking to destroy anything else, otherwise they would have set that on fire too. This was a distraction, and nothing else.”
William exchanged a glance with Jack. He couldn’t argue with her logic. “Distracting us from what, though?” he asked.
The dock began shaking under William’s feet before Rachel could answer. Charlie ran to them, rasping as he stopped and tried to catch his breath. “The boats are gone!” he said.
“We know, Charlie,” said William with a puzzled look. “They sank after the hulls burned through. It’ll be a job and a half to clear the wreckage, and they can’t moor any other boats there until they do.”
Charlie shook his head. “Not the merchant boats—the ones at the far dock.”
William’s jaw dropped. “The town’s boats? What do you mean ‘gone’? Were they burned too?”
“No,” said Charlie. “Just missing.”
“Well now we know what they were distracting us from,” said Jack. “How many are missing?”
Charlie held up three fingers, still too winded to speak much.
“King’s dirty socks,” said Jack. “Those could carry a hundred men or more. Have the rebels gone?”
“Why on Esper would they go?” asked William. “What would they gain by showing up, taking over, and then leaving?”
“Think it through, Will,” Jack insisted. “If it wasn’t for your deferral, you’d have paid your taxes a few days ago, right?”
William slapped his forehead. “The tax money. That’s what they came for. So this wasn’t a rebellion after all—they were just common thieves.”
“Ha!” said Rachel. “Nothing common about them. Someone had to move people into the right positions, maybe even get the wrong people moved out to make room for them. This required a lot of planning, a lot of time, and someone in a high position.”
They remained silent for a moment as they pondered the significance of Rachel’s comment. William broke the silence first. “Who?” he asked, looking directly at her.
“Could be anybody,” she answered as she quickly looked away. “Where’s Maya?”
Charlie pointed to the inn. “Patching a few burns.”
“How is she handling it?” asked Rachel.
“She seemed okay. I’m going back to check on her now.”
“What’s the deal with Maya and fire?” asked William as Charlie jogged away, the dock vibrating again under his pounding feet. “She’s fine around a campfire, and she even enjoys cooking, but she can’t treat burn patients without getting upset. When I burned my hands after Kaleb Antony tried to abduct me, she nearly had a breakdown.”
Rachel glanced at Jack for a moment before answering. “She doesn’t like to talk about it, and I don’t blame her. Years ago, when she was first learning medicine, a fire broke out at a glass mill. They’re supposed to be isolated, but this one was in a crowded area of town. Somehow, a furnace collapsed—one of its legs buckled and it spilled fire all over the wooden floor. The building caught fire and it spread to the grass, and then to other buildings. By the time the fires died out, over a dozen shops and homes were destroyed, and sixty people were rushed to the clinic. Several died horrible, painful deaths, right in front of her, despite her best efforts. I only know this because her mother told me; Maya doesn’t talk about that day, not to anyone. So, you can imagine how much she suffered at Rebel Falls when Antony’s men tried to burn the town. But she did her job. I should know, because I’d be dead if she hadn’t.”
Rachel turned on her heel and followed Charlie. William stared at her retreating figure, his stomach in knots. Once again, his ignorance had been made plain. That something so central to a friend’s well-being had escaped him for so long shamed him. He didn’t even need to ask Jack if he’d known; his reaction made it clear enough that he had. How could he spend so much time with someone and not know that sort of detail about them? Was he that blind? Or was he worse, like a milder version of Kirby, lacking decent human empathy? He turned to Jack. “What on Esper is wrong with me?”
Jack looked surprised. “Oh, come off it, Will. You heard what Rachel said. Maya doesn’t talk about it. How could you have known?”
“How did you know, then? Don’t bother denying that you did.”
Jack rolled his eyes at him. “Why would I deny it? Yes, I knew, but only because Rachel told me. I guessed before then, but I didn’t have a clue how bad it was, so stop worrying about it. People hide things, Will. They keep secrets because they don’t want other people to share their burdens. You’re used to people knowing about your pain, because your father died publicly, a hero’s death. No one should have to share that sort of pain unless they want to, but you never had the choice. But that doesn’t give you the right to know everyone else’s secrets. I heard you talking with Rachel before—you need to stop being so nosy. She’s got plenty of pain to keep private as well. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go check the horses. Someone might have let them loose when the fire started.”
They never reached the inn. As they left the dock, several riders arrived at a full gallop, their guard uniforms obvious even in the darkness. A crowd formed around them, drawing comfort from the presence of authority. One rider pulled a paper from his pocket and addressed the crowd in a deep, clear voice. “I’m Major Derek Bentsen of the Faywater Port Guard. I’m looking for the following people: Lord William Whitehall; Earl Hiram Doran or his son Jack; Maya Melchior; Dan Deacon.”
“I’m William Whitehall,” said William as he pushed through the crowd. “This is Jack Doran.”
“And who is that?” asked Bentsen, his eyes wide.
William followed the man’s gaze. “Oh! This is Clyde, my dragon.”
Bentsen grinned at him. “Duke Vincent wasn’t kidding about you, was he?”
“Huh? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Never mind, Lord William,” said Bentsen with a smirk. “Where are the others I mentioned?”
“Maya’s treating the wounded,” said Jack. “I’m not sure where Dan went, but the inn would be a good guess.”
“What happened here?” asked Bentsen as he scanned the smoldering wreckage.
“Someone set two merchant ships on fire,” said William. “Then stole three royal ships while everyone was fighting the fire.”
Bentsen stared back in shock. “Three! King’s knees…so we’re probably too late.”
“How did you get here at all?” asked Jack. “And why so few?”
“The six of us are the advance party. The rest are on foot an hour or two behind me. We have three hundred in total.”
“Three hundred!” said William. “How many are left in Faywater?”
Bentsen looked grim. “Too few for my liking, but Duke Vincent insisted, in part because of the letters you sent him and my detachment. You w
eren’t alone, however. Earl Bradford himself sent several messages as well, each more urgent than the one before. When the messages stopped, we assumed the worst, and your letter seemed to confirm our fears.”
They escorted Bentsen to the inn, where they met both Dan and Maya, as well as Rachel and Charlie. After brief introductions, he addressed the group. “As soon as the bulk of my company arrives, we’ll conduct a search of every building in Marshland, starting with the administration buildings. I’d like you to join us, one person per search party, to vouch for everyone we find, and to point out which buildings we should check first. I’d warn you all about possible violence, but your reputations suggest you can handle yourselves. Although, Lord William, I should ask where your sword is. It’s somewhat…legendary…among my men.”
“Stolen,” said William, his face darkening. “By someone I hope we find during the search, though I doubt we’ll be so lucky. No one has seen any rebels since I escaped, and the stolen ships suggest they’ve all left.”
“That would be unfortunate,” said Bentsen. “Not only for your sword, but because it will be next to impossible to capture them. These aren’t the sort of men we want running around free.”
Bentsen turned to Dan to arrange rooms for his officers, and William soon lost focus, buried in his own thoughts. What if the rebels got away? Where would they go next, and what would they do? And what was their purpose in the first place? Why would they simply occupy a town for a few weeks only to leave? The tax money made the most sense, but could that really be the whole reason for the occupation?
He decided it was Earl Bradford’s problem, not his. It bothered him that such a brazen crime might go unpunished, but he was satisfied his own lands were probably safe now, especially if the rebels fled by boat. They wouldn’t likely flee upstream, after all.
But he hadn’t come out of it without a loss. His sword was still gone. Kirby had it now, and would probably keep it, or possibly sell it for a small fortune.
Maybe he could ask Padma for another one. In the meantime, he needed to get away. Bentsen was a good man, that much was apparent, but he was loud, and William needed fresh air and quiet.
He knew where he had to go. Whether the rebels were gone or not, he could reach it safely in the darkness. In fact, he could probably reach it blindfolded.
He slipped away from the table while no one was watching. Not even Clyde saw him leave.
Chapter 19
The streets were empty. The smell of smoke hung in the air, catching in his throat until he climbed the hill into fresher air.
Bushes had overgrown the spot, but he still recognized it, even in the dark. On his left, a dirt path diverged from the main gravel one and led to a small graveyard. Ahead stood the huge willow that guarded the resting place of Marshland’s greatest heroes.
William froze, his senses alert. A lantern, at full brightness, stood on a gravestone.
His father’s gravestone.
A voice spoke behind him, colder than the night air. “I thought you might come here, Willie.” Kirby emerged from the darkness behind the giant willow.
Fighting the instinct to retreat, William stood his ground and stared back at the shadowed face, knowing his own was fully exposed—a disadvantage of course, but the glint of steel reminded him that Kirby had his sword, so it hardly mattered. Still, he couldn’t show weakness. “What are you doing here, Kirby?” he asked with a growl.
As Kirby walked into the light it unveiled his gleeful smile. “I told you—I was hoping you’d come here. Just like the old days. Isn’t this fun?”
William fought the urge to retch. “For you, maybe. What’s with the lantern?”
“I wanted to see your face.”
“Why?”
“Because I have so much to tell you, and I’m sure your reaction will amuse me. Physical pain isn’t all I enjoy, Willie Whitehands.”
William laughed. “No one’s called me that in years, Kirby. You’ll have to do better if you want to hurt me.”
Kirby ran his hand along the blade in a long, slow caress. “Maybe you don’t want to challenge me to try harder, hmm?”
William’s skin crawled at the sound of his voice. He stifled his fear, willing himself to focus. “What’s your part in all this, Kirby? How does someone like you get mixed up in what seems like a rebellion of all things? Even if this was just a complicated theft, why are you involved? You’re a horrible person, but you aren’t a thief. Or have you widened your horizons?”
His grin widened as he continued to approach William. “I stole your sword, didn’t I? But you’re right—simple theft does nothing for me. Where’s the joy when you can’t savor your victim’s pain? No, I was brought here for a different purpose.”
“What’s that?”
Kirby tapped William’s chest. “You.”
William stared back at the grinning face. He hated to give him the satisfaction, but he had to know. “What do you mean, me?”
“What I mean is, you are the central character in all this. You suspected as much, didn’t you? And I must say, you played your part to perfection.”
“Stop being cryptic, Kirby,” said William, his impatience getting the better of him. “What on Esper do you mean, my part?”
Kirby chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Everyone thinks Lord Willie is a celebrity, an adventurer, the hero of a dozen books. To me, you’re simply predictable. I played you like a puppet for years, and now I’ve done it again. I’ll admit it took a little longer this time, though.”
William gritted his teeth, but kept his hands relaxed by his sides, not wanting to show any emotion. “I hope you start making sense soon, because this is getting boring.”
Kirby pouted at William, mocking him. “Oh, we wouldn’t want that, would we? Well, you’ll know soon enough anyway, so I may as well tell you. Yes, this was a theft. A brilliant one, by a brilliant mind—and don’t bother asking who; I won’t tell you. My first task was to sabotage your barony, to hurt you monetarily. You and that agent of yours gamble so much it made my job pitifully easy. A little poison in the feed, salt water on crops, fences broken to start fights—that sort of thing.”
“And let me guess: you also arranged for the millstone to fall.”
Kirby roared with laughter. “No, you fools managed that one on your own. I tell you, I was bored from lack of things to do. My job was to push you to the edge of financial ruin—not shove you over it. So, I entertained myself with the local wildlife.”
Bile rose in his throat, and he forced it back down with a hard swallow. “Yes, I found the results. Disturbing, even for you.”
Kirby pouted again. “Some people don’t appreciate art. Anyway, I must have done enough, because you did exactly what you were supposed to: run to the earl for help. I admit, the world of lordly finance is new to me, but you were right on schedule.”
“Whose schedule?”
“Ours. I wish I could have seen your face when Alred showed up at your door demanding your taxes, though. You have no idea how funny you look with your fists all bunched up—like now.”
William did his best to relax without looking like he was responding to Kirby’s comment. “You sent Alred?”
Kirby shook his head in amused exasperation. “Haven’t you been listening? I told you, I’m not in charge. But I knew it was happening, and I knew how you’d react. Sure enough, you ran to Marshland and couldn’t find anyone you know, because we jailed them or sent them away. When Bird told us about your wedding plans…well, we couldn’t resist. Didn’t you wonder how you beat them back so easily? Did you really believe a bunch of unarmed villagers could defeat three dozen armed guards? You fell into our trap, Willie, and ran straight into my arms.”
William shrugged, despite the doubt clouding his mind. “I broke free, didn’t I?”
“Saving me a lot of work,” said Kirby with a grin. “I never wanted you dead. I just wanted you to suffer a little, like the good old days. So now Faywater sends all its guards to de
al with our little rebellion, only to find we’re all gone.”
“Except you.”
Kirby nodded slowly, as though he expected William to understand. “Yes. Except me.”
William shook his head in confusion. “I don’t get it, Kirby. You could be long gone by now. Is it so important to kill me before you escape?”
“Oh, I have no plans to escape,” denied Kirby. “Like I told you, I wanted to see your face when you got the final news.”
“Well, you’ve seen it. I hope you’re happy now. Just tell me one thing: was Oz involved in any of this?”
Kirby spat in disgust. “That fat fool. I heard about your little love affair with him. A butler’s job is way too good for him.”
“None of this adds up, Kirby. You’ve had your fun, you don’t intend to kill me, and you don’t want to escape. So why are you still here? You could run away and have more ‘fun’, as you call it. Stay here, and you’ll die in prison.”
Kirby shook his head, his face completely serious. “Believe me, I will never see the inside of a prison. I have the ultimate defense.”
“I don’t suppose you want to share the details?”
“Oh, but I do.” Kirby stepped back into the lantern light. To William’s surprise he began undressing, removing his coat, and then his shirt.
William gaped at the sight. A mass of weeping pustules covered the right side of Kirby’s stomach and chest. “King’s blisters…what on Esper is that?”
“Cancer,” said Kirby with a rueful smile. “Spread from somewhere inside. Doctor told me where, but honestly, I forget. I even enjoyed the pain for a while, but masochism is less fun than sadism, and I’ve had my fill of it now. I’ve spent the last few months making sure I stayed alive long enough for this moment, and not a second longer.” He lifted William’s sword and gazed at it, drawing his hand along the edge in admiration. “Ah, the things I could have done with this…” He shook his head sadly and reached into a pocket, removing a small vial, which he held up to the light. “This little pill will solve all my problems, but I have a final message for you first. Of all the officials we dealt with here, your friend Cairns was the most fun.”
Skyrider of Renegade Point Page 19